


A blanket of feathers

by Crowleys_little_demoness



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowleys_little_demoness/pseuds/Crowleys_little_demoness
Summary: Crowley calms you during a nightmare.The reader is gender neutral (no pronouns have been used, just "you") and can be read as human or an angel; that's on you :)
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens) & Reader, Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	A blanket of feathers

Nightmares. Nearly every night, they were haunting your sleep, driving out the happy dreams to leave you with only despair and fear and screams – sometimes, even the screams wouldn’t tear from your lips, instead nestling in your throat, choking you. Those nights were the worst, for when the nightmares ended, sleep paralysis would creep up on you, turn your mind against you by forcing it to concoct the worst kind of nightmares: the real ones. When your body was still fast asleep and your mind awake, monsters would be dancing in front of your vision and you couldn’t tell if they were real, but your body wouldn’t obey your will, forcing you to lay still, vulnerable and so terribly scared for the longest minutes of your life.

It happened again this night. Exhaustion from the day had been seeping through your bones, and sleep had claimed you as soon as your head had hit the pillow on the cosy couch in Aziraphale’s bookshop. Not even the calm and soothing presence of the stacks of book towering around you, the scent of old paper and binding, had been able to keep the bad dreams at bay when they arrived like old friends.

The only thing left to do for your sleeping, haunted mind was to whimper helplessly – and that’s how he found you.

***

Crowley’s relationship with sleep was, in the best case, a complicated one. He loved sleep. But sleep oftentimes didn’t reciprocate his feelings, evading him or gracing him with nightmares, with flames and falling and pits of burning sulphur which set his wings ablaze, making him scream in never-ending agony as it scorched his beautiful white feathers, turning them blacker than the darkest, starless night.

Whenever Crowley wanted to sleep, but felt too afraid to actually go through with it, he instead visited Aziraphale and you, staying awake the whole night, chatting and drinking wine to kill away the darkest and loneliest hours of the night, filling them with laughter instead of agonized screams.

When his Bentley practically slid into the convenient parking spot which had magically appeared in front of the old bookshop, he could see that the lights inside were already out, except for the small table lamp in the corner you always used for your late-night-reading sessions, when Aziraphale had already gone to bed.

A small smile crossed Crowley’s features as he sauntered into the bookshop – the door miraculously opening for him and closing again as soon as he’d stepped inside – and the scent of dust and old paper wrapped around him comfortingly. Little moments alone with you, shared in the dead of night when even Aziraphale had long went to bed, were the only moments he really had with you. And he’d learned to savour every single second of these fleeting moments, the stolen glances he gave you when he was sure you wouldn’t notice, your laughter blossoming from your lips because of something he’d said to summon these beautiful sounds, like wind-chimes in a soft summer’s breeze; the glittering colour of your beautiful eyes holding his own gaze. He’d learned to savour all of this, and he knew he could never have more; had known since he’d first laid eyes on you. Because he was a demon, and you were not. Crowley felt that you were simply too good for him, and more than anything else, he wanted to protect you. But even if he could be sure you’d never be punished for it – how could he ever tell you about the way he felt? About the way your smile was able to light up his whole day, hell, his whole _century_? No. He’d just scare you away, and then he’d have to face the rest of eternity without you by his side, and that would be so much worse than even the fourteenth century had been.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, he stepped into the bookshop – and was met with a scene he hadn’t expected. You were lying on the sofa, a stack of books on the carpet at your side and an open book beside your head; curled up on your side and most definitely fast asleep.

Crowley hesitated. He should go, instead of ogling your sleeping form, he knew that – but something held him back. He took a few slow, careful steps towards you, nearly toppling over another stack of books placed in his path – how did you and Aziraphale find anything in this chaos? – while he suppressed the curse bubbling up his throat. His snake eyes fixed on your sleeping form, with the softest expression in them, he realized that your eyelids were fluttering, and that your beautiful features were contorted in agony. Soft, helpless whimpers left your lips, and a stray tear was rolling down your cheek, dripping onto the worn fabric of the sofa beneath you like a raindrop.

Crowley flinched as he watched you struggle in your sleep. Nightmares. Never would he have guessed that someone like you would be suffering from nightmares as well, but here you were, fighting against the monsters in your sleep; the vulnerable, pained expression on your features was one he’d never seen on you before. Even if he probably should leave – he wasn’t supposed to feel compassion as a demon, for a start, but he already felt love for you so that ship had sailed long ago – he simply _couldn’t_. He knew the feeling of haunting nightmares, and he loved you too much to leave you alone in the fight you were currently facing. Carefully, he tiptoed across the worn carpet, carefully sidestepping the stacks of books in his way, and cautiously too away the book beside your head to sit down beside you. But what now? Your whimpers hadn’t ceased, each of the agonized noises tearing from your throat was sending a sharp pain through his chest. Should he wake you? Or should he try to calm you in your sleep, first? His hands hovered in the air above your head for a few seconds as Crowley was contemplating if it was okay to lift your head a little so you could rest it in his lap, but since he didn’t want to take advantage of your helplessness, he didn’t dare to touch you.

Instead, he did the first thing that had come to his mind. A soft rustling sound, like fallen leaves carried by a soft breeze in autumn, filled the bookshop as a pair of wide, black wings unfurled on Crowley’s back, and he was careful not to startle you awake as he scooted closer to your sleeping form and gently wrapped a black wing around your body in attempt to shield you against the cold that had made you shiver seconds ago, and against the creatures of your dreams which were still tormenting you.

***

Another whimper tumbled from your lips as a wave of coldness rushed through your body and the images your sleeping mind was conjuring were getting worse – but suddenly, the freezing feeling shaking your sleeping form subsided as it was replaced by a soft warmth and a weight, light as a feather, lighter than any blanket could be, wrapped around you. Even in the deepest abysses of sleep, you could feel it; the sensation of soft feathers gently tickling your cheek, and the warmth instantly surrounding you.

“You’re safe”, a voice whispered, “They can’t hurt you, y/n”. Crowley’s voice. You’d recognize his voice everywhere, and the sound of it made your heart stumble with feelings other than fear. Longing. Love. Even if you would never be brave enough to tell him – you could at least tell the version of him that your mind had sent you in your dream, you thought, oblivious to how very real his presence beside you was.

“Crowley.” His name, carried by your whisper, felt like a prayer guarding you against evil. Wrapped up in the soft, warm safety of his wings, a small smile tugged on your lips as you let yourself fall into the feeling, knowing nothing would ever be able to harm you as long as Crowley was protecting you.

The nightmarish images that had been haunting you were fading quickly now, and peace settled over you in your sleep.

You’d never know that the comforting, soothing feeling of feathery wings shielding you, their soft feathers as dark and beautiful as the night sky, was real. And you’d never see the expression softening Crowley’s features, the happiness and love glittering in his snake eyes behind his sunglasses as you sighed his name in your sleep. But it was as real as the wide, love-struck smile dancing on Crowley’s lips.


End file.
